


High Art

by clio_jlh



Series: Imagine Me and You [11]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Moresomes, RPF, Romance, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-15
Updated: 2007-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh/pseuds/clio_jlh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon and Ryan have a little party, to which only Chris and Blake have been invited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Art

**Author's Note:**

> So let's end this momentous season for both Rymon and singerslash with a bang: multipart foursome smut! Huge thanks to for being a great beta and for being a great inspiration, and David Hockney for painting naked boys in California swimming pools�"and all the paintings in this story, including the header, _Portrait of an Artist (Pool with Two Figures) 1971_.

* * *

_A Bigger Splash (1967). _

1: In which Simon convinces Ryan who convinces Blake who convinces Chris.

"Hello."

"Where have you been?" Ryan asked, not turning to look at the man whispering into his ear.

"Can't you tell?" Simon replied.

"Ah, the familiar smell of burnt cough drops. You've been 'having a fag.'"

"Don't mock; you love my accent."

"But I hate your smoking, so it's even."

"What are you doing standing back here in the shadows? Took me an age to find you again."

"Looking at them," Ryan said, gesturing with his glass.

Simon followed, looking across the club packed with post-finale partiers to another raised, curtained platform like the one he and Ryan stood on. There, in the recess, stood Blake Lewis, surprisingly not the man of the hour, and the only one of the Top 12 who wouldn't be getting his very own party. That he didn't look particularly unhappy about it was, Simon reckoned, mostly to do with his companion Chris Richardson, who himself looked very protective. While he didn't blame Chris for being possessive, Simon doubted that a fellow like Blake needed to be protected from much of anything.

Except perhaps older, lecherous record executives.

"They're so young," Ryan muttered.

"Oh, I dunno," Simon said. "Blake is only two years younger than you were when I met you. Not as blond, though, anymore."

"Does he remind you of me?"

"Same drive, same work ethic. Flirts with me, though not as successfully."

"Well, I should hope not!"

"Why?"

Ryan turned to Simon. "Didn't we say guys count?"

"Not if we're both there," Simon replied, winking.

"You want to have a threesome with Blake Lewis? Seriously?"

Simon looked over at the opposite corner. "I don't think it's possible."

"Good. You had me worried—"

"But a foursome should be. We can have them both over for dinner and a little party on Saturday."

"_What?_"

"Look at them. Chris barely lets Blake out of his sight and with good reason. Besides, he's the handsome one."

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

Simon moved behind Ryan, putting his chin on Ryan's shoulder and rubbing his upper arms. "Come on, Ryan," he muttered in his ear. "You know you want to be wrapped up in those big arms of his."

Ryan growled low in his throat. "Fine, I'll do it. Go ahead and ask them."

"Not me. You ask them."

"Me?" Ryan turned to face Simon. "It's your idea!"

"I'm only good at charming you. You're better at charming other people."

Ryan stood his ground, setting his arms on his hips.

"Oooh, you're so sexy when you're angry. Give them that look and they'll do anything you tell them," Simon said. "Right, off you go."

Ryan sighed. "The things I do for you," he said, shaking his head as he turned to walk down into the crowd.

"Give me a break!" Simon shouted after him. "It isn't just for me!" He watched Ryan walk away, giving Simon the finger over his shoulder, and laughed. Of course they would say yes. He was sure he wasn't the only one who couldn't say no to Ryan Seacrest.

* * *

_Portrait of Nick Wilder (1967)._

Driving around in LA, rather than being driven, gave Blake a very different sense of the scale of the city. No more shuttling from the apartments to the studio or maybe to clubs at night; no, now it was getting on the freeway like anyone else. But he liked being independent, liked the Mustang he had been given by the Ford people, liked deciphering a new set of traffic reports.

And, he had to admit, he loved having Chris next to him in the front seat instead of the back seat. They were just any couple, in the car going to see some friends for dinner.

"Do you think they want to fuck us?" Chris asked.

Okay, not like just any couple. "Depends. Do you think they're fucking each other?"

Chris gave him a look and then started laughing. "Hell yeah they're fucking each other. They practically did it on air, man."

"Then yeah," Blake answered. "I mean, if I were them, I'd want to fuck us."

"Do you want to fuck them, though?"

"Shouldn't we have had this conversation before we said yes to Ryan?"

"I wasn't thinking about it this way then. Why, were you?"

"I kinda thought that's what we were saying yes to."

"Oh."

Blake glanced down at the directions, then pulled over into the closest strip mall parking lot. "Chris? Do you want to do this?"

Chris stared at the El Pollo Loco in front of their parking space. "I just hadn't thought about it until now. I mean, you want to, so—"

"Not enough to make you do it if you don't want to."

"Well, the way Ryan has always flirted with you, I mean, I can see it."

"He flirted with you, too."

"Yeah."

"Christopher Richardson, do you or do you not want to fuck Ryan Seacrest?"

"With you there? Yes."

"Like I'd miss that? Do you or do you not want to fuck Simon Cowell?"

"Honestly?"

"You're starting to blush so you may as well say it."

"Okay, yeah, yeah, I kinda do. He's intriguing."

"So let's do this."

Chris turned to look at Blake. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do this."

Blake pulled them back onto the road and with Chris navigating they quickly found their way to Simon's house. It was one of those modern concrete and steel houses with a flat roof and more glass than structure. A housekeeper let them in and walked them through the house to the pool at the back.

Simon was sitting on the diving board in swim trunks and an unbuttoned white shirt, drink in one hand and cigarette in the other, feet dangling in the water. Ryan was treading water in the middle of the pool, his wet stubble glistening in the sunlight, though Blake couldn't quite see his body under the water.

"Hello!" Simon called out. "Maryann, thank you for staying, you can go now."

Blake turned and watched the housekeeper leave, then turned back to Chris. He'd known that Simon was very wealthy, but he hadn't realized he had a _staff_. "Quite a house, Simon," Blake said, mostly because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"He's obsessed with David Hockney," Ryan said. "You know, that British artist who painted pictures of hot naked men in California swimming pools? He had to recreate it as soon as he got to LA."

"Ah," Chris said, nodding, and Blake wondered when he'd ever seen one of those paintings. Blake had, in a museum, and he could understand the appeal they must have had to Simon, being English and all.

"In the interest of that," Simon said, "jump in."

"We didn't bring suits," Chris said.

"You don't need them," Ryan said. He moved, flipping in the water, and Blake realized that Ryan was naked. "Come on, make my old man happy."

"Don't be obnoxious in front of our guests, Ryan," Simon replied, but he was smirking as he puffed on his cigarette.

Blake turned to Chris, who winked at him. The two of them quickly shed shirts, shorts and sneakers, and as if having the same thought at the same time, jumped into the pool, trying to cannonball Ryan, or if not, create as big a splash as possible. Ryan, though, had the sense to move out of the way, so they only succeeded in drenching Simon.

"Priceless!" Ryan sang out.

Simon's cigarette was definitely out, and his wet shirt clung to his torso, the dark chest hair showing through the now-translucent material. The stiff bristles of his hair drooped under the weight of the water.

"Well," he said, "I may as well come in now."

"No clothes in the pool," Ryan said. "House rules."

Simon threw his sodden cigarette into his watery drink, put the glass down, whipped off the shirt, and shucked off his trunks. As he stood up on the diving board, Blake realized that while Ryan's body looked pretty much as advertised—slim, fit, golden skin with a smattering of brown hair—Simon looked much, much better out of clothes. His chest hair was fairly normal-looking when not framed by a ridiculously low-cut shirt; his legs, shoulders and arms were quite muscular; and so what if he had a barrel chest or bit of a tummy when his eyes could bore straight through the back of your head? Blake watched him dive into the water perfectly, as if he'd been diving into pools all his life, and swim straight for Ryan. Ryan yelped—knowing Simon, he'd probably pinched him as he swam between his legs—and Simon broke up through the water, laughing.

"You're such an ass," Ryan said, leaning over to kiss him.

Chris swam closer to Blake, his usual not-quite-but-kinda-sorta possessive body language, and Blake thought that maybe the best part of this entire ridiculous competition—aside, of course, from falling for Chris and performing in front of millions of people—was that surreal experiences like swimming naked in a pool with his boyfriend watching two famous men make out was just another part of his life now.

Well, that and the Mustang. That car was _hot_.

* * *

_Two Dancers (1983). _

2: In which Chris and Ryan play a game, and Blake and Simon play pool.

"They are never going to finish, are they?" Ryan asked.

"Doesn't look like it," Chris replied.

They were in the back of the game room—Chris wondered how many rooms one man needed, exactly—getting more cold drinks from the fridge under the bar. Blake and Simon were just around the corner, playing pool, having challenged each other. Winner got to top, so it was unsurprising that the game was so close. Of course, it would be going faster if they didn't keep stopping to make out every couple of shots.

It had been strange for a moment, earlier, when they were all in the swimming pool and Simon and Blake made that beeline for each other. Chris's instinct had been to shout "I'm right here!" but then Ryan was at his elbow and he realized that was the point. They were all right there. Plus it was hot, watching them kiss while Ryan nuzzled his neck. So he decided to just get over himself already.

Ryan hopped up on the bar. "Well, no reason we have to just sit there and watch them."

"No, I guess not," Chris said, taking a slurp from his seltzer before taking a step closer to Ryan. "Does this feel like a really weird high school party to you? Except, you know, naked?"

"Now that you mention it. Only, I never got to make out with the football players in my high school."

"Did you want to?" Chris asked, stepping closer, between Ryan's slightly spread legs.

"Yeah, I kinda did," Ryan replied, covering up a shy smile with a drink from his diet Coke. Chris didn't know if it was the memories of high school, or if he'd picked it up from Chris himself, but Ryan's voice had a slight lilt to it, the ghost of an accent that he'd probably disciplined himself out of years ago.

Chris took another swig, then set the bottle down next to Ryan before leaning both hands on the counter on either side of Ryan's thighs. "Maybe you should have just asked," he said with a grin, then leaned forward for a kiss.

Immediately he realized that Ryan was not interested in half measures. Once begun his kiss kept changing from deep to shallow, hard to soft, quick pecks to slow sucking, keeping Chris off balance. It took nearly all of his concentration to keep up with Ryan's considerable skill, but it didn't seem to be taking all of Ryan's, as he had wrapped his calves around Chris and was sliding them up his thighs.

Reluctantly, Chris pulled back. "Wait a second," he said, reaching down to make sure all necessary parts were above the edge of the counter.

"Ah," Ryan said, looking down. "Wouldn't want to squash the bits and pieces."

Chris chuckled. "You sound like Austin Powers. Who says that?"

"Who do you think? Let's put that right here," he said, gently sliding Chris's cock into the crease between his thigh and hip and nestling Chris's balls between his legs on the counter next to his own. Satisfied, he hooked his knees around Chris's hips, pulling their bodies together, so his own cock was between their stomachs, his calves and feet resting against Chris's ass. "Now, where were we? Oh, right," he said, pulling Chris back down into a kiss.

Ryan's arms slid around Chris's shoulders, clinging like a girl might, only Ryan had stubble that mingled with Chris's own. Chris's hands were sliding up and down Ryan's back, from his surprisingly broad shoulders to his narrow lower back and the juicy cheeks that spread out below it, also like a girl, or really, like Blake, only a bit smaller. Ryan had this way of stopping without stopping, taking a quick breath without actually letting go of Chris's lips, letting the kiss go on forever, something Chris made a mental note to try with Blake. He couldn't even tell how long they'd been making out, only that his cock had been getting harder and harder until now he could probably pound nails with it, and Ryan's felt the same, jutting up between their flat stomachs.

Chris's hands found a comfortable spot, right at the small of Ryan's back where he could feel the muscles of his ass, and started to thrust, sweat, precum and swimming pool dampness providing enough moisture to let their bodies slide against each other rather pleasantly. Ryan's wiry pubic hair prickled the underside of the base of Chris's cock and his thigh, tense with thrusting, seemed to grab hold of the shaft. Chris tried to do something similar for Ryan, undulating his stomach muscles, and Ryan moaned into Chris's mouth. Ryan, for his part, wasn't letting go for a second, pulling him closer than close with his mouth, arms and hands, legs and feet, and Chris didn't think he would last much longer. How amazing, that he could come just from Ryan kissing him expertly and moaning in his ear while clinging to him like a monkey.

Chris forced their lips apart, feeling it coming and wanting to watch Ryan come, to look into those eyes so much like his own, glazed with desire. "Ryan," he whispered, rolling the name on his tongue. "Ryan."

"God, Chris," Ryan said, staring right back, moving his hands from Chris's back to his face, long fingers splayed against Chris's cheeks. Ryan thrust` a few more times before wet stickiness spread across their chests. He was slack-jawed and moaning, still looking Chris right in the eye, his after-shock shudders so sexy that Chris came before he knew it, pulling Ryan's body closer, sinking his fingers into the flesh of Ryan's ass and whispering his name again.

They kissed, soft and open, lips just touching, and then they heard—applause? They turned, cheeks pressed together, to see Blake and Simon standing next to them, clapping.

"I told you I wouldn't miss it," Blake said. "That was _hot_."

"How long have you been standing there?" Ryan asked.

"Long enough," Simon answered. "Since you started moaning. I'd know that sound anyplace."

"That's somehow comforting," Ryan replied.

Then Simon reached out with one finger, rubbing it into the little pool of Chris's come on Ryan's hip, and licked it off. "He'll make you clean that up in a minute," Simon said. "Nothing personal. He just doesn't like being sticky."

Ryan stuck out his tongue at Simon, but it was so close to Chris, their cheeks still pressed together, that Chris took it upon himself to pivot and suck that tongue into his mouth. It was bold, doing that in front of Blake and Simon, but they'd seen it all already and it was too sexy to resist.

"I'll do it," Blake said, sliding past Chris to grab one of the bar towels and moisten it in the sink. Chris pulled back, reluctantly, and Blake cleaned Chris's chest and stomach. Chris dipped his head down to kiss Blake—he wanted to kiss every mouth in reach, it seemed—and he was just as sweet tasting as ever. Blake turned to clean off Ryan's chest, hip and thigh and get his own kiss from Ryan, and wow, watching his boyfriend kiss another man this close was hot in a way Chris couldn't quite understand.

"Right," Simon said. "Off you go."

Blake tossed the come-rag into the sink, then took Chris's hand and led him away from Ryan, who hopped down off the counter, and the three trailed Simon back into the main room like naughty schoolboys.

* * *

_Double Entrance (1993-5). _

3: In which Simon lets Blake win, and Ryan and Chris get front-row seats.

Ryan and Chris slumped on the couch to watch Blake and Simon finish their interrupted game. "God, I wish he'd just win already," Ryan said.

"Simon?"

"No, Blake! Simon was a snooker champion at school."

"Snooker?"

"Yeah, some British pool game, whatever."

"Wait, so he's an expert?"

"Yeah."

"And he's trying to throw the game to Blake?"

Ryan nodded. "He um, he finds it hard to say that he wants to be fucked, so he just creates a situation where you want to nail him, usually by being an asshole. Luckily that comes very easily to him."

"Huh. So I guess this will take a while."

"Or not," Ryan said as Simon scratched on the eight ball.

"Wooooh!" Blake shouted, jumping up and down. His cock was hard, though Chris wasn't sure whether it was from the banter with Simon or the show Chris and Ryan had put on or just the situation in general. But he did look like a man ready to fuck.

Ryan reached into the drawer of the table next to the couch, pulled out a condom and a tube of lube, and tossed them to Blake. Simon had leaned his hands down on the coffee table in front of them with an air of unhappy defeat, though Chris caught him winking at Ryan. Blake was behind him, triumphantly rolling the condom onto his hard cock, flushed red with blood, and who was Chris, really, to spoil his fun? Or, for that matter, Simon's?

"I think we should get rid of this table," Ryan said.

"What am I supposed to lean on then?" Simon asked crankily.

"Chris," Ryan replied. "He's young, he's good for another go."

They stared at each other for a long moment and Chris realized that while it had been Ryan who flirted with them on stage all season, he was doing this as much for Simon as for himself. Chris might have fulfilled some old teenage fantasy for Ryan, but what Simon wanted was to be sandwiched between the two singers. Chris wondered if that sort of scene had ever been in a Hockney painting. Anyway, Ryan was right; the thought of it made his cock twitch, so he was certainly up for another round.

Simon stood and slid the table out of the way, kneeling before Chris, who obligingly spread his legs and scooted his ass forward on the cushion. Simon placed his hands on Chris's muscular thighs and leaned in for a kiss. "Ah," he whispered, "you're a fast learner."

"Making out with Ryan is a master class," Chris said.

Simon nodded, but said, "Don't say that too loud. He's very vain about it."

"I'm right _here_," Ryan said.

"You," Blake said, his hand on Simon's back, "are supposed to be bending over for me." He gently but firmly pushed Simon down, using the other hand to pull him back by one hip. Once they were nearly flush, Blake squeezed a dollop of lube onto his fingers and thumb, and slipped his finger into Simon.

Chris could feel Simon shuddering in his lap, knowing exactly how Blake's fingertips felt, all slicked with lube and sliding into your ass, with the combination of Blake's blunt fingers and natural impatience making it a little bit rougher and quicker than he really meant it. Chris kind of liked it that way, and Simon looked like he could handle it, but Chris still reached down one hand to stroke through Simon's thick hair. He dropped his thumb along the side of Simon's face and gasped as he turned and sucked Chris's thumb into his mouth.

"He's very oral," Ryan said. "Smoker."

Chris turned to him, promptly getting lost in another kiss, but then he felt a little nip on his hand. He broke off, looking down.

"Back to me," Simon said.

Chris looked up at Blake, who he could tell was about ready to trade fingers for his cock, and Blake rolled his eyes, smiling.

Emboldened, Chris said, "Then do what you're down there to do, Simon."

He should have known, really, that Simon would respond to that by sucking as much of his semi-hard cock as possible into his mouth, very fast, making Chris gasp and fight to keep from thrusting into the sudden warm wetness. Simon's hand was wrapped around the base of Chris's cock, his other hand grasping Chris's thigh before sliding down to fondle his balls, and all Chris could think was, _damn_.

By the time he looked up again, Ryan had slipped off the couch and wandered over to Blake, and they were kissing. Then Ryan took hold of Blake's cock and eased it into Simon's arse. Chris could feel Simon start a bit, then settle back into sucking Chris's cock. Blake was ramping up pretty quickly, which didn't surprise Chris after all the teasing and assorted goings-on; also, he'd come once already, which Blake hadn't. It was a good view, with Simon's head in his lap, his broad, muscular back and ass, and then Blake sliding his cock in and out, shaking all three of them with the force of his fucking. Ryan was stroking Blake, kissing him and rubbing his chest, keeping Blake's hand from slipping down to stroke Simon. "No," Ryan said. "I'll take care of that."

Ryan moved away from Blake and lay on his back, sliding under Simon. "God, look at those tits shake," he whispered, and Chris could just tell, looking down, that Ryan was rubbing Simon's nipples. "So hot, darlin'." Simon started, grazing Chris's cock with his teeth, and Chris gasped. "Sorry," Ryan said, chuckling. "Now, I'm going to suck on them, so don't bite the boy's dick off."

Chris had heard Ryan tease Simon about his chest before—everyone had; they'd done it on air, even in one of the Africa packages—and Chris had always found Simon's habit of rubbing himself to be more than he needed to see, but Ryan referring to them as "tits" while they were having sex was just downright _strange_. Clearly they turned Ryan on, which might explain Simon's penchant for unbuttoned shirts and Ryan's need to comment on them using the word cleavage. Given Simon's reactions he was one of those sensitive-nipple types, which might explain why they always seemed to be hard and sticking out through his shirt (another thing that was more than Chris needed to see). But while it worked for them, all in all Chris was glad that Blake didn't have "tits" or particularly sensitive nipples, as that would just have been confusing.

Chris looked up at Blake, who had also been peering down at Ryan, but looked up at the same moment, and their eyes met for the first time since they'd sunk their cocks into either end of Simon. Blake grinned as if to say, "Can you believe this shit?" Chris grinned back, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. He reached out to Blake, who lifted up one fist from Simon's hip to bump Chris's, and yeah, they were in this together. "Fuck him good, man," Chris said. "Show him what you're made of."

Blake nodded, getting a better stance, then really pounded away at Simon, and Chris started thrusting, too, moving his cock in and out of Simon's willing mouth, reaching down to help him stay up as he rode really all three of them, since Ryan was underneath, moaning as he sucked at Simon's nipples. Chris's eyes moved back and forth between Simon and Blake, making sure Simon was all right but not wanting to miss Blake's orgasm. Then Blake shouted, "Yeah," and threw back not just his head but his shoulders, too, lifting Simon off the floor with the force of that final thrust. Chris stopped moving, not wanting to choke Simon, but also transfixed with how fucking gorgeous Blake always looked when he came, how his whole body flushed red against the scattered tattoos. There was so much to look at that Chris's own orgasm caught him by surprise, and he came into Simon's mouth, hard and fast, and Simon slurped it all down like it was candy.

Simon let go of Chris and collapsed, breathless, onto Ryan, who gently rolled him onto his back. Chris realized that Simon must have come at some point, as there was semen on Ryan's stomach. Then he remembered that none of them had touched his cock, not even once, and he said, "Wow, we did that?"

Ryan smiled. "Yeah we did," he said, and leaned down to kiss Simon.

"Come, in my mouth," Simon said between pants.

"I don't care," Ryan said, kissing him softly, and Simon's breath slowed like magic. Ryan sat up. "You like that?"

Simon's lips curled into a shit-eating grin. "Yeah," he replied, running a finger through his own come, drying on Ryan's stomach.

"Anyone for a shower?" Ryan asked.

* * *

_Fruit in a Bowl (1986). _

4: In which Blake asks Ryan for a story, and Chris tells Simon to behave like a gentleman.

Glorious, Simon thought, to be eating dinner outside at what Ryan called the "meetinghouse," the first house he'd bought in LA, which he now used just for meetings. But he still had that enormous custom-sized bed from when he fancied himself some Hugh Hefner type, which always amused Ryan because the two of them could get so lost in it. And now here he was having a tryst with Ryan, and it shouldn't feel so natural, sitting around the table near the pool, freshly showered and in plush silver robes, with these young men, but somehow it did. He felt like all was right with the world.

So he threw a strawberry at Ryan's head.

"What?" Ryan said, then looked down in his lap where the berry had landed. "If you want me to catch it you have to warn me." He turned to Simon, mouth open wide, and caught the raspberry he threw next. After the activities of the early evening, and a necessary shower, the men had devoured the cold salads that Maryann had left. Now they were sitting around enjoying the evening with a cocktail, too newly full to fuck, but knowing that eventually there would be a round two.

"So tell us how it happened," Blake said.

"How it happened, or when we knew?" Ryan asked, eating the strawberry. "Because those are two very different things."

"Both!" Blake replied

Chris shook his head. "Oh my god, Blake, you are such a girl!"

"Hey, you want to know, too, and you're just too macho to ask. Whatever. I want to hear how Simon Cowell falls for someone." Blake grinned cheekily.

"Well, it happened straight away, didn't it?" Simon said. "He walked in the door all blond hair and tanned skin and I thought, 'Helloooo, America.' So I said, 'Is that your natural hair color?'"

"Yes, gentlemen, the first thing out of his mouth was not 'hello' or 'nice to meet you' but 'is that your natural hair color.'" Ryan chuckled. "So I stood there for a moment and looked at him in his tight t-shirt and jeans and boots and he just exuded arrogance and caveman macho, which was ridiculous, and I was annoyed at the way he was staring at me and the way it affected me, so I said, 'Is that your natural cup size?'"

"Wow," Chris said.

"So there's just silence," Ryan continued, "and I'm thinking, 'way to fuck yourself on the first day, Ryan John,' and then he started _laughing_. And not like, sarcastic 'ha-ha' or polite chuckling, but throw your head back, full-out laughter. And that was when I knew, anyway. Of course, then I had to wait through two years of denial from this one," Ryan said, poking Simon's arm with one bare foot.

"Now that's not _really_ how it happened," Simon interjected.

"Oh? Tell me then," Ryan said, turning sideways in his chair to put his feet on the arm of Simon's.

Simon lit another cigarette, then draped his free hand over Ryan's ankles. "Well, the sex was great, but I thought it was just an affair, one of those show things …"

"Not just … " Ryan said.

"… and I didn't consider myself gay, right? I'd had sex with men but I'd never had a relationship with one before…"

"… a river …"

"… and Ryan was playing it so close to the vest that I couldn't tell how he felt anyway, so was it even worth the risk?"

"… in Egypt," Ryan finished, smiling. "I was an open book. You just didn't want to know."

"So you were having sex all that time?" Blake asked.

"Yes, and that's actually a more appropriate story to this particular occasion," Simon said. "Though to be honest, I remember us being at dinner and then it's rather foggy until we were actually fucking."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "We were at dinner after a show, that first season. Funny, I can't remember which show it was—it was the end of July so RJ or AJ probably—and we'd been flirting off and on for a few months."

"It was the performance show before Ryan Starr left, when you called me 'pretty boy' on air," Simon said.

"Aww, see, you do remember things," Ryan said, then turned back to Blake. "Anyway, Randy made some joke about MOR radio and Clive Davis and a trip to the moon, or something, and I laughed. I could sense him looking at me so I turned to face him—he was sitting next to me, which he'd been doing more often—and he had this weird expression on his face."

"Weird expression?" Simon interrupted.

"Well, _now_ I know it's your 'If you don't find a way for us to fuck right now I will run amok' look, but then you just looked a little ill."

"It's commonly called a _leer_, Ryan," Simon said.

"Whatever. So he leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, 'You're coming home with me tonight,' and I was so surprised that he'd finally _said_ something that all I could do was nod. Somehow we got into the car without raising too many suspicions; I think he was renting a Porsche that year and he sure looked hot driving it. We slipped in the back and into the elevator and as soon as the doors closed he had his hand on my ass, which was so presumptuous that it made me blush."

"I remember _that_," Simon said. "I got worried that you would need careful handling. Which turned out to _not_ be the case." He grinned.

Ryan chuckled. "_Anyway_, we got to the suite and I turned and watched him closing the door behind us and I thought, 'I am not letting him just run this.' So I pushed him up against the door and kissed him. He was surprised, I think, but then his hands were on my ass again and he was kissing me back and I could feel his cock hard against my thigh. I backed us up into the room and nearly bumped into a table, so I pulled back and asked him where the bedroom was. But he looked a bit dazed, so I turned around, found it, and dragged him in near the foot of the bed. I pulled his shirt off over his head—"

"How did I look?" Simon asked.

Ryan glared up at him. "Shut up, you know you looked good. Good enough that I wanted to see the rest as quickly as possible. I kissed him again while I unfastened his belt and his jeans and pushed them down around his ankles; I think it took me a second to realize that he wasn't wearing any underwear."

"All the sexiest men go commando," Blake said, nodding, which got him a clink of his glass from Simon but a shove from Chris.

"Maybe," Ryan replied. "I know it was all I could do not to sink to my knees right then."

"Why didn't you?" Blake asked.

"There was _no way_ I was just going to give him a blow job and leave; are you kidding me?" Ryan shook his head. "No, I'd already decided that I was going to fuck him, and he was going to remember me, even if this was the only time we'd ever do it."

Simon cocked his head. "You thought it would be a one night stand?"

"If I didn't play it right, yeah." Ryan took a sip of his mojito. "So I pushed him down onto the bed and let him watch while I took my clothes off. Not, like, a strip tease, but not too fast, as I knew how much he liked to stare at me."

"Still does, obviously," Chris said.

Ryan looked over his shoulder at Chris. "Yeah. This is going to sound weird but it kinda makes it, I dunno, less shallow or something to be good looking because it pleases him so much, you know?"

Chris smiled shyly. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Ryan nodded. "So I grabbed a couple of condoms and some lube from my jacket pocket—I was single then, and always prepared—and shoved all the clothes out of the way and knelt between his knees."

"Wait, but you said you didn't want to blow him," Blake interrupted.

"Well, not against the wall, and not so he could just dismiss me. But on the bed, with me sort of on top, and with easy access to his tight ass? Different story."

"Gotcha," Blake replied.

"So I rolled a condom on that pretty cock—and you've seen it, god, isn't so pretty, dark red, and when he's hard he's _hard_—and started sucking him down my throat. Just the taste of him and the smell, he's so male, and I was starting to get a little overwhelmed so I reached down and squeezed the base of my cock and focused on him. I looked up and he was sitting up on his elbows, watching me, and the look he was giving me was dark and hot. I started rolling his balls in my fingers, getting him to tip up and slide further forward on the bed. I squeezed a bit of lube on my fingers and started easing them into his ass and as I hoped, I had him so far down my throat that he didn't even stir. I was pulling out every single trick I knew, finger fucking him with one hand and fondling his balls with the other while I slid his cock in and out of my mouth. He was barely making a sound, just breathing, and I could really hear the sounds I was making on him, which was seriously hot. And then he was coming, and shouting my name, and I looked up and ooh, so fucking gorgeous."

"Well, Simon?" Blake asked.

He smiled slowly. "Best blow job I've ever had … with a condom on."

"_Simon_," Ryan said, rolling his eyes.

"Dude," Chris said, "your man just talked about how fucking sexy you are and all you can say is that he doesn't swallow?"

"It's okay, Chris," Ryan said. "He's not good with compliments on demand."

"No, man, step up," Chris insisted.

Simon drew on his cigarette, exhaled, and then said, "It was so good that by the time I was paying attention to my surroundings again, he had climbed on top of me and was clearly going to fuck me and I had no desire to stop him or even slow him down, though I hadn't been fucked in what, a good ten years. And once he started kissing me and rubbing my nipples I just spread open my legs and said 'do what you will.' That's how good it was." He looked over at Ryan, who was blushing and smiling in that dreamy way he did when he was pleased, and Simon reached up and affectionately rubbed the underside of his calf.

"So yeah, I fucked him," Ryan went on. "And he was good—well, you know now, Blake—and I lasted long enough for respectability but not much longer. And then—"

"And then even though I'd sworn I wouldn't, I asked him to stay," Simon said.

"And even though I'd sworn I wouldn't, I did, though what I said was, 'You only want me to stay so you can get yours back in the morning,'" Ryan said.

"And I laughed," Simon added. "And I did fuck him the next morning. And despite what he _said on air_, I did call him the next day."

"And that was how it was for the rest of the season, and our vacation, and the next two years, and my friends were telling me to forget about him but I couldn't," Ryan said, using his fork to scoot an errant pea around his plate.

"And then Terri sat me down and told me not to be a complete idiot."

"And then we moved in together."

"Wait," Blake said. "Terri, your girlfriend?"

"Well, I mean, she's a friend," Simon replied. "It's complicated. And anyway, there's Shana."

Ryan nodded. "Girls don't count. Or at least, those girls don't."

"Huh." Blake thought for a moment. "Chris?"

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Girls count," Blake said.

"You're fucking right they do," Chris replied.

"Just making sure," Blake said, smiling.

* * *

_Pearblossom Highway (1986). _

5: In which Ryan shows Blake what Simon likes, and Simon shows Chris what Ryan likes.

A shower in which everyone was too spent to get up to much funny business, Ryan thought, was the sign of a very well-run orgy. Not, of course, that he'd run many; in fact, he hadn't run any. He'd been to one or two when he first got to LA, but he found it hard to pay attention to that many people at once, and if he was honest with himself he was too much of a control freak to go with the flow or whatever the hippy dippy bullshit phrase was. He and Simon were too underground to bring anyone into this, except of course for Terri and Shana who existed on some other strange plane of being both a part of and definitely not a part of this thing that they were doing, whatever it was other than overwhelming love, unconditional support, amazing sex, professional competition and the usual ongoing verbal sparring. None of the words worked: Simon was really Terri's boyfriend; lover didn't say nearly enough; partner sounded like they had a production company together. He'd been using "old man" lately, which seemed to suit Simon in all of its connotations. That he could share his old man with a couple of sexy kids (who'd be leaving the next day, thank youuuuu) and not feel all that jealous was, he thought, probably another good sign.

Now that lunch was over, Ryan mostly wanted to get his hands on Blake's ass, so he suggested they go upstairs to the master bedroom. Once there he fairly unceremoniously pulled Blake close and started kissing him and pushing his robe off. Blake responded energetically, trying to anticipate Ryan's ever-changing kiss and even throw in something of his own, but Ryan wasn't particularly interested in mutuality at the moment. He moved back, to let his own robe slip to the floor but also to survey the effect on Blake.

"You're very good at that," Blake said. "Most people don't even bother with kissing anymore."

Ryan grinned. "Here get on the bed. I spent most of high school and college making out with people. And I have a very talented mouth."

"It's like, your superpower," Chris said from where he and Simon lay vaguely on top of each other at the head of the oversized bed, lazily watching Ryan and Blake.

"In more ways than one," Simon added.

"Good at sucking cock?" Blake asked.

"He's very good at sucking in general—all _right_, sucking bits, you needn't give me that _look_, Ryan—but I meant, what do you like to call it?"

"Tipping the velvet," Ryan said, pulling a couple of condoms and some lube out of the nightstand drawer.

"Oh, we haven't done that yet," Blake said.

"Together, or separately?" Simon asked.

"Well, together. I mean, it's not like we've had all this time to have ridiculous sex," Blake said. "Separately, um, I dunno, it's never been my thing."

"Giving, or receiving?" Ryan asked.

"Either. I'd just rather be doing something else."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Chris asked.

"Rimming," Ryan said, sitting next to Blake near the foot of the bed.

"Oh, yeah, well, it's kinda cool," Chris answered.

Blake looked up sharply. "You've done it? But I thought—"

Chris cocked his head. "Girls have assholes too, Blake."

"Oh, sure. But you never said—"

"It wasn't new," Chris said with a shrug. "I wanted to do the new things first. I figured we'd get around to it sooner or later. Don't worry about it."

"Should I?" Ryan asked Simon.

"Oh, I really think you have to," he replied. "The rule was the other way round, anyway."

"Rule?" Chris asked.

"Before we did this," Ryan said, "we thought to avoid jealousy we'd each get something to declare off-limits."

"I said I didn't want anyone fucking him," Simon said.

"And I said I didn't want anyone rimming him," Ryan finished. "But you can rim whoever you want, darlin'. As for you," he continued, addressing Blake, "you should get on your knees."

"Is that what you want?" Simon asked, turning to Chris and grinning. "What was your little fantasy about me, hmm?"

"Honestly? To shut you up by shoving my dick down your throat. But I've already done that so I'm pretty open."

"Listen to the mouth on you!" Simon said. "I would expect it from Blake, but—"

"I'm just full of surprises," Chris said, and pulled Simon into a kiss.

Ryan looked away from them and back to Blake, who was kneeling in front of him, turned away. He kissed his way from Blake's neck down his back, slowly pushing him down to the mattress, until Blake's head rested against his hands and his ass was in the air, just where Ryan wanted it. He kneaded the firm flesh before him, indulging himself in the ass he'd coveted for months, then leaned down to take a first lick at the puckered hole. Blake was a little tense, but that was fine; just more of a challenge, more of an accomplishment, because Ryan had already decided he was going to make Blake come, mostly from this. He lifted up his head for a moment to grab some lube and check out Chris and Simon, still making out at the head of the bed, though Chris's hands were tentatively moving across Simon's chest.

"Go ahead, Chris," Ryan said. "They won't bite. He loves it."

"You mean you love it," Simon replied.

Blake, who was also watching Simon and Chris, asked, "Do they really feel like tits?"

Simon growled in protest, a low, rumbling, sexy sound that made Blake's cock twitch.

"No," Chris answered. "They're more like pecs that move." He reached out a hand to Blake, who obligingly sucked three fingers into his mouth, stroking them softly with his tongue, staring into Chris's green eyes all the while.

Focus, Blake thought. He hadn't accounted for the way two additional people might lead to sensory overload, where there was so much going on and he wanted to see it all, and so he would get distracted, and his mind would run a mile a minute and he'd forget what he was actually supposed to be doing, which happened pretty much any time he wasn't in the act of performing. Even sitting down to arrange something, he needed to have some mindless video game to play while he was thinking or listening to the playback to keep him from being distracted by whatever he could see—usually Tetris, because it was patterns within patterns. After a lifetime of this Blake had dozens of such ways of getting himself to focus, but Chris usually noticed his distraction before he did. Like earlier when he was losing track fucking Simon because he was so distracted by Ryan, or now, when he couldn't quite wrap his mind around what Ryan was doing to him. Now he lay there watching Chris stroking wet fingers across Simon's chest, making Simon moan and throw his head back to make his neck available for Chris to nibble on, and suddenly it was clear.

Ryan Seacrest, with just a tongue and a finger or two, was slowly turning all of his bones into jelly from the top down. Blake moaned, loud and deep, and said, "God, _Ryan_." He pushed his chest further into the mattress, since he didn't seem to have bones there anyway, and spread his legs more, tipping his hips up.

Ryan replaced his tongue with a lubed finger. "Starting to like it now?"

Blake could feel Ryan stroking his prostate, pushing firmly against it with the tip, and he arched his back into it. "Those others," he said, gasping a little, "must have been … doing it wrong."

"I'm sure Chris has the skills," Ryan replied. He replaced his finger with his tongue, thrusting it into Blake's ass like a tiny cock, then laying it flat and licking softly, alternating that with the softest of little bites and grazes of teeth on the tender skin that made Blake shudder and hiss.

Blake was moaning almost constantly at this point, but his eyes were still on Chris, who was licking his way down Simon's torso, one hand around the back of Simon's neck. Simon's legs were splayed, lewdly, and Chris had his other hand between them, playing with his balls, but leaving the semi-hard cock well alone. Simon was rubbing slow circles on Chris's shorn head with one hand, while the other was playing with Chris's ass, lube-slick fingers occasionally dipping into the little hole. His eyes were on Ryan, as they almost always were, but his gaze was unfocussed, and that it was his Chris doing that to Simon turned Blake on even more.

The fuzzy melty feeling was receding, replaced by something that felt sort of like needing to come, only instead of being centered on his cock, it was spread all over his groin. His cock was hard and pointing out into the air but he couldn't be bothered to move to stroke it, the way he might if he were being fucked. Instead, he whined, hoping that Ryan would do it. "_Please_." But Ryan didn't move, just kept on with the tongue fucking.

In front of Blake, Simon was still finger fucking Chris, who had made his way down to Simon's not-quite-hard cock and was slurping it down his throat. So sexy watching his handsome profile moving up and down, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed, but Blake thought, a waste of Simon's erection to suck it down now. And if Ryan wasn't going to listen to him, Chris would. "Ride him, Rich," he muttered. "Show him what you're made of."

Chris opened one eye, eyebrow raised, then lifted off Simon's cock, a little trail of spit and precome clinging to his lower lip. He turned to Blake and grinned, a bit evilly, and yeah, they were in this together.

Then Chris winked at him, and Ryan did something or other with his balls, and that was it, he was coming all over the goddamned place, pushing his ass into the air and shouting before collapsing at the foot of the bed.

"Fine," Blake said, breathless. "It's my thing." Chris laughed, so Blake rolled over on his back and smacked Chris on the thigh. "Shut up. You're the one who will have to satisfy my new craving, anyway."

"I don't think that will be a problem," Chris said, still grinning.

* * *

_A Lawn Being Sprinkled (1967). _

6: In which everyone talks a big game.

Ryan, who'd gone to the en suite bathroom, wandered back with a facecloth and cleaned up Blake and the sheet beneath him, then tossed the cloth back into the bathroom. Then Chris lay down next to him.

"Hello," Blake said, reaching for Chris's hand.

"Hey," Chris replied, leaning over to kiss him.

"Having a good time?" Blake asked.

"Yeah, you?" Chris asked.

"You bet," Blake replied.

"So glad to hear it," Ryan interjected. He and Simon sat next to each other, at the boys' feet, getting their cocks ready with condoms and lube.

"You're a very good host, sweetheart," Simon said.

"Why thank you, darlin'," Ryan replied.

"Pillow?" Chris asked, offering one to Blake.

"Yeah, thanks," he replied. "It's weird though."

"Blake, what _isn't_ weird about this?" Chris said, adjusting his own pillow under his hips.

"That's not what I meant. Like, Ryan, he's getting ready to fuck me and I'd pegged him for a total bottom."

"Ha, _pegged_," Chris said, snickering.

Blake grinned. "But seriously, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Chris said. "Bend him over that stupid little podium and fuck him 'til he screams my name."

Ryan coughed strangely.

"What?" Blake asked, looking up.

"Aw, man, you didn't," Chris said. "On the stage and everything?"

"No, in my trailer," Simon said. "But he is a perfect little bottom."

"Simon …" Ryan warned.

"What?" Simon said.

"Never mind," Ryan said. "What about Simon?" he asked Blake.

"I really never thought he'd ever be bending over for me," Blake said. "He's so bossy."

"Ryan is actually a good deal bossier than I am," Simon said.

"But you're more toppy," Blake said.

"Possibly," Simon conceded.

"Good thing I won that game, then," Blake replied, nodding to himself.

"Yeah, _good thing_," Ryan said, rolling his eyes at Simon.

"What?" Blake asked.

Chris snickered. "I'll tell you later, babe," he said, and kissed him. "So, did we come here to talk or did we come here to fuck?"

"Both," Ryan said, pushing his hands under Blake to lift up his hips. "Ready?"

"Oh yeah," Blake said, reaching down with his free hand to position Ryan's slick cock at his entrance. "Oh … yeah," he repeated, as Ryan slowly slid into him.

"Right, stop holding hands," Simon said.

"Why?" Chris asked.

"Pay attention to me now," Simon replied.

"Earn it," Chris said, raising his eyebrows.

"Cheeky!" Simon said.

Chris replied with a snicker that turned into a hum as Simon entered him.

"Now _this_ is weird," Blake said.

"What?" Chris asked.

"This!" Blake answered. "Laying on a bed next to my man, getting fucked, while he's getting fucked. It's weird."

"Good though," Chris replied.

"Yeah," Blake said, giving Chris's hand a squeeze.

"Chris, you need to fuck him more often," Ryan said.

"Yeah?" Chris asked as he tipped back and wrapped his legs around Simon's waist, pulling him closer.

"If this ass were mine," Ryan said, squeezing handfuls of Blake's bottom as he pulled him on and off his cock, "I would fuck him every day. And if I couldn't, I would give him a dildo and call to make sure he did it."

"Not true!" Simon said.

"What?" Ryan asked.

"You're projecting! By the third day you'd crave getting fucked and be back on my doorstep." Simon stopped for a moment and sat back on his haunches, so Chris was in his lap.

"Oh," Ryan replied, "you'd still be my old man, darlin'."

"Well, then that's all right," Simon said, "though I'm not old."

"Of course not," Ryan said. "Which is why you just shifted off your not-old knees."

"You know, if you wanted to hit the gym with me," Chris said, "we could work on making your legs stronger."

"Ha!" Ryan said. "Right, Simon at the gym."

"Do you have a problem with my body, Chris?" Simon asked.

"Certainly not," Chris said, moving his and Blake's clasped hands to rub the back of his against Blake's not-precisely-flat stomach. "Not a bit. I'd enjoy fucking you."

"What?" Simon said. "You've lost me."

"If—oh, right there, that's it, right there, yeah—if you're fucking Ryan and Ryan's fucking Blake and Blake is fucking me then I'd be fucking you, right?"

"I don't like to be fucked often," Simon said, shifting to keep thrusting at that angle that so pleased Chris.

"S'cool," Chris said. "I'd rather be fucked."

"We'd need to get a bigger bed," Ryan said.

"Ha!" Blake said. "Jaws!"

"Don't make me laugh," Ryan said, a bit breathless. "I'll lose my rhythm."

"Go back to the dirty talk," Blake suggested.

"Um," Ryan began. "I'd fuck you every day, and you'd wear a plug when I wasn't fucking you."

"Yeah?" Chris said, interested.

"In those trousers you wear no one could tell," Ryan said, changing up so he was thrusting slow, but deep and long.

"Even on stage?" Blake asked.

"Definitely on stage," Ryan answered. "And only we would know."

"Ooooh, I like secrets," Simon said.

"Okay that's sexy," Blake said, wrapping his free hand around his cock. "I'd have a hard on the whole time, and have to fuck Chris right after the show, with your plug in my ass."

"What about me?" Simon asked.

"What do you want to give me?" Chris asked back, stroking himself.

"A ring." Simon lifted up one hand and wrapped it, tight, around the base of Chris's cock. "I'd give you a ring right here, for Blake to take off."

Simon's grip made Chris shudder. "Sometimes, sometimes he wouldn't," he whispered.

Simon's lips curled into a particularly evil grin. "That's right. But I will, now," he said, letting go of Chris's cock. He put both hands back on Chris's hips to better pull him on and off his cock.

But it was Blake who loudly came first, squeezing his cock with one hand, Chris's hand with the other, and Ryan's cock with his ass. That set off Ryan, who grabbed Blake's ass hard enough to bruise, throwing his head back and moaning through gritted teeth. Chris was next, not letting go of Blake but keeping his eyes on Simon as he shot all over his hand. And the sight of that, of a gorgeous young man staring up at him with lustful eyes, impaled on his cock and jerking himself off, plus his personal favorite sound of his own green-eyed boy moaning in pleasure next to him, was more than Simon could withstand and he came, hard in Chris's ass, before collapsing on top of him.

After some moments of laying there in a heap, trying to catch their breath, Simon rolled off of Chris and Ryan pulled himself to his feet and staggered into the bathroom.

Blake asked, "He's not kidding about that clean up, is he?"

"No," Simon replied. "Love him anyway, though."

"No one likes to wake up encrusted in semen," said Ryan, who had returned with damp washcloths. "They're just lazy about it."

"Should we, I mean, is there another room?" Chris asked.

Simon shrugged, laying still as Ryan removed his condom with a tissue. "Stay here; this bed is big enough for four."

Blake turned to Chris. "That was insane."

"Yeah, kinda," Chris said. "But I liked it."

"So you're glad we came?" Blake asked.

"Hell, yeah. Three times each," Chris replied, grinning.

"Dork," Blake said, and kissed him.

Ryan climbed up on the bed next to Simon, climbing over Blake and Chris, who were in their own little world. "Aww, they're so cute. Can we keep them?"

"Ryan, you don't have enough time to have all the sex you should be having with _me_. You won't have _time_ to fuck them," Simon pointed out.

"I suppose," Ryan replied.

"And do you really want two more long-distance lovers?" Simon asked.

"No," Ryan said sadly. "What is it, Simon?"

"I should think I would be enough for you, really." He crossed his arms.

"Hey, this was your idea."

"I didn't mean we should _keep_ them."

Ryan smiled. "I'm sorry, darlin'. Come on, let's go to sleep."

"I'm more than enough for _most_ people."

"Simon. I love you. Good night."

* * *

  
Blake wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to this California sunny morning thing. He rolled over to get a pillow to put over his head, and then suddenly remembered where he was and sat up.

He was the last one in the bed. No sign of their hosts, but Chris stood out on the balcony, still nude, drinking from a mug. Blake walked out to join him, slipping an arm around him.

"Good morning," Chris said, kissing his temple.

"Morning," Blake replied. "Where'd you get the coffee?"

"He has a machine in his bathroom. Weird."

"Yeah. Where are they?"

"Down there," Chris replied, pointing to a chaise near the pool.

Blake saw Simon laying face up, with Ryan sitting in his lap. They were fucking, but it was slow and loving, staring at each other, kissing a bit.

"Wow," Blake said. "The real thing."

Chris turned to Blake. "Yeah, the real thing. C'mon, let's take a shower."

* * *

_Peter Getting Out of Nick's Pool (1966) _

**Author's Note:**

> The strawberry bit is a reference to [Go Fish](http://jlh.livejournal.com/316716.html#cutid1). For Ryan's further thoughts on what Simon likes, and why he's so sure Chris will be good at it, see [Tipping the Velvet](http://jlh.livejournal.com/265728.html#cutid1).


End file.
